


The Abyss Looks Back

by euphorbic



Series: Angel of Cities [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Gratuitous Imagery, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphorbic/pseuds/euphorbic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charles closed his eyes, each footfall had a shadowed echo and Erik’s image occasionally blurred and streamed behind him. His hair threw long black wings that curled and died in the air behind him. His eyes flickered with dark red flecks that fell down his cheeks like powdered blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Abyss Looks Back

**Author's Note:**

> I've done very little to alter this scene from its original form. Please note, this piece makes more sense if you've read [Alexandria](http://archiveofourown.org/works/690605) which sets up the plot.

_The Abyss Looks Back_

Erik’s hair licks over Charles’ fingers like flames that find his flesh too precious to burn. He runs his hand through the auburn locks and looks down at the Power’s face which is half-pressed into a pillow. Reaching softly, he feels the deep somnolence his Power attains only after strenuous exertion. The only other time he has felt Erik rest so deeply was when he disappeared from the city for two weeks and returned deeply dissonant and out of balance.

This time, Erik was only gone throughout the night but he returned in worse shape in the morning. He was less dissonant, but Charles could feel a jangling ring with every shuffling step he took across the banded wood flooring.

When Charles closed his eyes, each footfall had a shadowed echo and Erik’s image occasionally blurred and streamed behind him. His hair threw long black wings that curled and died in the air behind him. His eyes flickered with dark red flecks that fell down his cheeks like powdered blood.

The swarm was in total disarray within a chaotic storm of swirling black ashes. Their bright carapaces were black and pearlescent as oil slicks. Their exoskeletons deeply red as de-oxygenated blood. They crashed into one another, shattering into ash and did not reform.

Charles could see through Erik, but not due to transparency; his sleek muscles were ravaged and trailing around him. His ribs were white except where bluish cartilage attached them to his breast bone. Charles tried to stop Erik when he hauled himself onto the balcony railing, but his Power only shook his bleeding head.

It took him the better part of an hour to attain Equilibrium and even then Erik admitted it wasn’t complete.

And so, Charles avoids a wound as he presses a kiss to Erik’s brow, which is slick and feverish even for such a long attunement. He reaches for his phone and messages his office that he has a sick family member to care for. McCoy is quick with a reply:  _Is it Erik?_

Charles tilts his head to one side and runs his thumbs over the phone’s face. _What makes you think Powers fall ill?_

Hank’s response is shocking.  _Alexandria_ _had a powerful Angel go on a rampage last night. I haven’t been able to get through to Emma. Can you reach her or her Angel? The library’s linguistic center was at the epicenter. Was Erik involved?_

Emma Frost is the most talented linguist Alexandria has ever known and a formidable telepath. Charles admires the beautiful woman and the diamond form of her mind. They have an enjoyable working relationship that has extended, on several occasions, to socializing at intercity balls. That is, when her fiancé isn’t present.

Emma is as pale and beautiful as her Power is dark and sharp. Together, they look like opposing pieces on a chessboard. Charles thinks the two are a much better match than her mortal lover.

Her Power is old, but nobody remembers his name no matter how many times Emma or her fiancé use it. He’s the first Power Charles has ever spoken with and all the telepath can remember of the conversations are mouthfuls of double and triple entendres, language jumps, and an awe-inspiring aftertaste of music. Emma’s Power is a creature of arrogance and words. His previous imprint became Alexandria’s chief lawyer. The Power’s dark eyes are rumored to flicker passionately when he reads or hears poetic or clever language in any tongue.

 _I can’t reach Emma at this distance unless she’s reaching for me simultaneously, but I’ll try._  He types nothing about Erik’s feverish torpor or the grievous injuries he sees when his mind’s eyes are open. It is entirely likely Erik was summoned for damage control; there’s very little Emma’s Power can’t handle. He’s practically the only Power in all of sprawling Alexandria.

Removing his hand from Erik’s hair, Charles lies back beside his Power and places two fingers at his temple. He thinks of Emma. He reaches out toward Alexandria even though it is too far for him to reach unaided. He reaches for Emma on the off-chance she may be reaching out at the same time.

He does not exactly find Emma, rather a projected sense of her. A taste of Emma that is thin as rime on a puddle, except the puddle is more of an abyss. And the abyss is full of churning teeth and gore and wailing. The abyss stills as Charles ponders it; he’s never seen anything like it, but it feels familiar. He remembers flickering red-gold eyes, red ashes slipping down chiseled cheeks, and then he sees de-oxygenated blood on diamonds.

The abyss looks back with despairing eyes.

Charles cuts his search immediately. The abyss is Emma’s Power and Emma’s Power is in worse shape than Erik. He is more dissonant than glass on a chalkboard and resonates at the same frequency as a human scream.

Worrying at his lower lip, Charles rolls to his side and props up on his forearm. He knows Erik saw Emma’s Power in the night. Erik returned with the arrogant Power’s imagery all over him: the black wings of hair, the dried blood, the flicker of red in Erik’s eyes.

Charles runs his fingers through Erik’s animate hair. He squints slightly, trying to overlay physical sight with telepathic sight. He can see Erik’s spiritual and physical face is still bruised, his lips cracked, a gash across the ridge of his eye and cheek bone still open, but the dissipation has stopped in both realms. Charles sifts through Erik’s hair, looking for long black hair. He finds none of the other Power’s plague banner locks. Looking down Erik’s slim body, he sees several of the metallic swarm have regained their color and have been knitting the Power’s phantom flesh back onto his bones.

He opens his physical eyes and leans over until his forehead is touching Erik’s hot temple in relief. There are no traces of the other Power left on Erik, but Charles still feels the dark Power’s despair and wonders if, when the abyss stared back, it touched him.

Charles pulls back, brushing his lips across his Power’s brow, and takes up the phone again.  _I think I touched Emma’s Power; he’s projecting in a wide range. I don’t understand his state; too entropic. What of her fiancé?_

Hank’s reply is as swift as before.  _Can’t get through to him, either. Entropic sounds bad. He’s the one that lost it, isn’t he?_

Charles frowns and glances at Erik’s furrowed brow. He wishes he could ask his Power what the situation is, but he won’t disturb him for curiosity or Hank.

_Moira says your building is seeing an influx of media personnel. Be prepared._

“Again?” A tired sigh escapes Charles, but he appreciates the warning.  _I think something bad happened to Emma, but I have to wait for Erik to wake up to ask._

_Is he hurt? Can we help?_

_Hank, show our conversation to Moira. Especially this: Emma’s Power is currently entropic and, for lack of better words, dissonant, unbalanced, and despairing. If he’s the one on the rampage, Alexandria is in a bad way. If something—_ ‘Something’ is a euphemism for death; he can’t bring himself to type the word out. — _has happened to Emma, he may need another telepath to imprint. In fact, if he’s the one on a rampage, it might be because he needs to imprint._

Nervous energy is seeping into Charles’ limbs and conflicting with his desire to stay in bed with Erik. Messaging Hank is certainly not helping, though the information could be critical. Surely other Powers are working on the problem.

_Moira will let the militia know. She’d like you to release me to give her your direct line._

_As long as I am free to block her._

_Xavier, this is Moira. I want to speak to Erik._

Charles considers telling her Erik refuses to use phones, but simply blocks her temporarily instead. He types out a final message to Hank. _I’m turning off messaging. Please tell Moira how Erik does with computers, phones, and texting._

It is a testament to Erik’s degree of dissipation that he does not awaken to Charles’ annoyance, nervous energy, or departure from the bed. Even though Erik doesn’t need it, Charles still tucks the comforter around his shoulders and hems him in with pillows. He goes to the floor-to-ceiling windows to let the sun in. Erik is like a cat; he enjoys sleeping in sunlight.


End file.
